The first breath of fresh air. It is the best part of my ritualistic morning. Every day around eight o’clock, my balcony is the place where my day begins and normally ends. It is the secret to my serenity, the view from the 26th floor of our building where my parents’ condominium lies. It is truly breathtaking; I suppose it is why a solid percentage of our home’s walls are composed of windows. The building is located in Belltown, a neighborhood in Seattle. So, our view is nothing if not cliché. You can see the waters of Puget Sound, the Space Needle, and other various tall buildings. Allowing you to imagine all the 705,000 + intricate lives of the people who live in my city. From my balcony I can also see my work. Mhm Work. WORK. The thought of the word snaps me out of my trance, tearing me away from thinking of all the individual people below. But suddenly, my only thoughts are of getting ready. I do so very fast, I leave my comfy room. But, before I leave I am sure to say goodbye to my mother and grab a banana, backpack, and my car keys.

   At the record store,  I am greeted with my boss and good friend, Lindsey. She is an interesting character, with her platinum hair, 70’s clothing style, and free spirit. Not to mention her impeccable taste in music. Lindsey is exactly twice my age, but she acts like she is stuck seventeen years in the past and is still my age. Well, perhaps “stuck” isn’t the right word. Lindsey purposely acts the way she does and she thrives in her mindset of eternal youth. I think about the life of Lindsey, as I start to sort through our new shipment of vinyl records.  To the right of my little desk is a bulletin board, normally filled with lost dog posters, band flyers promoting concerts, or new albums. Today, I couldn’t help but notice a flyer with a picture of what my friend group calls the “Back Alleys”. It’s an alley where my favorite street skate spot is at. It is an alley composed of the backs of the walls of the tall buildings downtown. Awesome white and brick 30 story walls. The flyer announced a mural art competition. The same competition my friends have been talking about for weeks. The flyer explained that the competition is allowing 40 entries of artists willing to create 20 x 30 or more foot tall murals in the alley, by the showcase party at the end of the summer. To win a prize of $25,000.  “They are finally going to give the Back Alleys the beautification they deserve, huh?” whispers Lindsey as she walks by. I assume she had noticed me eyeing the flyer.

    “But, you know what would really make a difference, a talented artist like yo-” her words are interrupted by someone bursting through the door. “Akelaaa,” says the interruption that just walked in the door. It was Logan. My best friend, or more like unrelated sister. I didn’t know it was her at first. Logan can be stealthy, quiet when she wants to be, because she enjoys sneaking up on people. But today, she decided to make her presence known immediately. “Hey, Lo,” I smile at her. Lindsey begins to tell Logan all about the Back Alley Mural Competition. In vain of course, Logan already knows all about it. As she does know almost everything. “Well, I was thinking our friend here would sign up,” suggests Lindsey, eyeing me. “Funny, I was thinking the same,” Logan responds. I see what they are getting at. “Ugh, you see I would. But, they’re only accepting 40 entries and I would think all the spots would be taken,” I say. “Think again, only half of the spots are filled so far,” pipes Lo. “Well, I am also so busy here at work,” I joke. “Quit with the excuses, you are the most talented artist I know and you are pretty, and tasteful. You have a serious chance to win. So, don’t throw it away,” says Lindsey in a half serious tone. “Agreed,” squeaks Lo. “Okay, okay, sheesh,” I say lazily. Logan looks around the store for hours as I finish up my duties. Going through every album of artists’ of every genre. Until finally, lunchtime arrived and I ended my day at the record store. “Back Alley spot? The boys will already be there,” asks Logan as we walk out of the store. “Of course,” I answer. We go by my house to pick up my board and drive downtown to our favorite skateboarding spot.

    We arrive. There are already around fifteen or so fellow skaters there, most of which were our closest of friends. “A and L, wassup?”, “ Aye the girls are here”, we hear as we walk up to our concrete playground. Skateboards in hand. A smooth grey concrete slab the size of a football field. Complete with inclines, shallow and round little pools, and low ledges and rails. One beautifully empty 10ft deep pool and a metal u-shaped ramp, tucked in one far right corner. It was perfect, our paradise under a freeway, not too far from the water of Puget Sound, that we had the young 80’s kids to thank for creating. We are greeted by our friends. An assortment of high school boys with their long hair, dirty t-shirts, vans, and beautiful personalities. Each equipped with creative minds and great senses of humor. My type of people.

    One of them stood out. A beyond talented eighteen year old boy named Kai Van Larson. Whom I have known all of high school. He was the best. And he knew it. Kai was the best at almost anything; skateboarding, surfing, photography, being Kai. With his tan skin, brown hair, and bright green eyes, Kai always looked so comfortable. Always so confident. I looked up to him, he was only a year older, but he had always seemed to have it all figured out. I watched him do a few tricks, then turned around to talk to the boys who were sitting down.

    “Akela’s entering the mural competition,” I hear Lo say. I roll my eyes. “Ah, good. I had hoped so,” says our friend, Parker. Parker was talented, too. Kai and him had a lot in common, that's why they were best friends. “Akela has the best chance to win. Being talented and all,” says our friend Riley. “To win what?” I hear someone say behind me. “The mural competition,” answers Parker. “Oh,” responds Kai. He turns at an angle, facing the Back Alley walls. Shaking his head, he says, “I think we all might win...getting to see whatever beauty she’ll put up there, and seeing it everyday,”. “No pressure,” I groan. “What are you going to put up there?” Riley asks. I pause. “Something that truly represents who she is,” answers Kai. “Or not,” I say, simultaneously throwing down my board and skating away from the group. We skate for hours.

    But right before sunset, Logan, Parker, Riley, Kai, and I head to the waters of Puget Sound on our boards. Kai and I with our cameras around our neck. We get to the water, and snap some pictures. I get some with everyone. But, there was one picture. One of Riley with his long, dirty blond hair that the warm light of the sunset gorgeously cascaded upon. I turned around caught a picture of the reflection of the sunset on the tall buildings of the city. Next, of the beautiful water. I was mesmerized by the city. I was mesmerized by my home. Realizing that this is what shapes me; my friends, my passion, my family. It was finally dark, and we were all tired and sore. So I headed home.

    At home, I notice baggage in our living room. Remembering my parents’ trip. I say goodbye to them. They are used to leaving me home for weeks on end. Mom and Dad are leaving to New York for a few weeks, for my dad’s business and my mom just loves NYC. As they leave, I lock the door behind them and head to my room and straight to the balcony.

    The city is even more beautiful at night. I thought of the pictures I took. I got it. The thing that shapes me, the thing I love most, the thing so intricate and complex. Seattle. This is what I will paint a mural of. Not something that represents me, something that has shaped me. Made me whoever I think I am.

I start another day on my balcony. Looking out at my inspiration. I get the film developed of the sunset pictures and head to the Back Alley. I spend the rest of the day alternating between skating and prepping my designated mural spot on one of the walls in the Back Alley. I put a base coat of paint on the entire area. I then sketch my plans for the wall. Finally, I start. I work on it. I work on it for hours. Those hours turn into days, and those days turn into weeks. Until, it was nearly the end of summer and only one more day before the reveal and voting.

    It is the end of the day, we had all just come back from watching the sunset. I invited them to see my finished piece. As there had been a tall white sheet a few feet away from the designated mural spots, in order to keep the murals a secret. I am nervous to see their reactions as I take Logan, Parker, Riley, and Kai to the wall and pull back the makeshift curtain. I then go into my car that was facing the mural and turn on my brights. “Ahhh,” almost all of them say. “Woah, it’s me,” Riley whispers to himself. “You really did it Akela,” squeals Logan. “Nice job, Bud,” says Parker.

    They are looking at, truly a combination of three triangle-shaped paintings in a sort of collage. All surrounded by a black box. They are realistic paintings. One of which, is a recreation of the picture I took of Riley at sunset with beautiful orange and pink sky behind him. Next, a cool toned painting of the water and islands of Puget Sound. Finally, a painting of the morning view from my balcony. The mural was something any local could relate to or find comforting. I felt proud for a minute.

    “Well, I am tired. Do you guys want a ride home?” asks Parker. Riley and Lo simultaneously take the offer. Kai, oblivious to whether or not anyone is talking, stays completely still. With his hands in his pockets and his chin up, staring up at the mural. “Alright, see you guys later,” says Parker. “It looks amazing, Akela,” says Logan. I smile as they walk away.

    I look at Kai intently, wondering what he was thinking. “It’s not you,” he says plainly, semi-answering my wonder. “What do you mean?” I ask, “It’s my city, my home, my friends. It has been what has shaped me as person. Made me who I am, I wouldn’t be anything without this city,”. “Who are you?” asks Kai. I pause. “You don’t even know,” Kai says softly. “Well, isn’t that what life's about? About finding who you are,” I close endedly ask. “No,” he close endedly answers. “How can I care so much for a little girl, who is so clueless about the life she is living and hopefully continues to live?” he continues. “Don’t call me that and not all of us have life so perfectly figured out like Kai Van Larson” I whisper. “I’m sorry...and for the record, I don’t have life completely figured out. But, that’s the beauty of it. Akela, life isn’t about finding yourself. It is about creating yourself. Just as you have created this mural. Creating for all of your days, only stopping on your last day. Creating around the things you love,” Kai says with the smoothest voice. I sigh, “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”. “Fix it,” he says over his shoulder, walking back to the skate spot.

    So I get out all the leftover paint from my car and I start. I bring out the white paint. I continuously layer it on every inch of black paint on the mural, to cover up the separation I created in the mural. There was a lot of it. After, I took the most colorful, vibrant paint and created my own flowers and whimsical shapes to fill in the white blank spaces that surrounded the three scenic paintings. The abstract contrasted the realistic.

Representing the parts of myself I have yet to create, and the parts of myself that have been shaped out of my control. It took me hours, as I listened to Kai’s board hit the cement and metal rails. Heard the sweet sound of skateboard wheels rolling around. Until, I decided I was done. I clean up and pull the sheet back and turn off my brights.

    “Hey!” I yell. Kai skates over to me, panting. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” I say as I check my phone, revealing it was five in the morning. “Let me see it before you leave,” he says. “Mmm I don’t think so. You’ll see it tomorrow with everyone else,” I answer. Kai smiles. I don’t think anyone has ever said no to him. I go home and sleep. Or rather did my best to sleep.

    I wake up later than I expected, looked out on my balcony, and put on the outfit I had planned. A wine red, satin dress with lace trim and my matching simple strap heels.  Even bothering to do my hair and to put on makeup. A rarity. I get in the car and head off to treat myself to a nice little lunch. After, I headed to the “Back Alley”. They were already halfway through judging. I met up with the group. “Look at my beautiful sister,” Logan said with a smile on her face. “I think red may be your color,” Kai grins. “Thank you, thank you,” I smile. It’s finally my mural’s turn. As two men in suits and one woman in a nice long blue dress walk over to my mural, a man in all black announces my name and pulls back the curtain. Revealing my colorful mural with writing at the bottom which said, “‘Creating for all of your days, only stopping on your last day. Creating around the things you love,’- Kai Van Larson,”. My friends cheer and people around applaud. But, Kai only smiles. The biggest grin. True joy in his eyes.

    Well, I won. The $25,000 is going to my college fund. I keep getting contacted by distinguished artists and gallery owners, who are looking to create collaborations with me. I am getting recognized in the community as a prodigy in art. But, the biggest benefit I got from this summer is what Kai Van Larson taught me.